


sino ka?

by bimrambles



Series: percussion boys [2]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: .............. - Freeform, M/M, gay hate, i dont know what to put here, pep band x dlc au, percussion boys, really this is just exposition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 14:39:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11420088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bimrambles/pseuds/bimrambles
Summary: lyre boy jeremy / pep boy michael,,,, fight me





	sino ka?

**Author's Note:**

> .... here's ur drabble u dorks  
>  i dont have 2 explain who the percussion boys are,, it's in my "#percussion boys" tag on tumblr
> 
> ps im not editing the lower case aesthetic xox

jeremy had _enough._

“hey, can you chill out, mister beda boy?” mister beda boy laughed at this, at _jeremy_ , who was pretty much just there to set his instrument on the floor next to the others before getting interrupted by the sheer rowdiness of the pep band who _really_ need to step away from the lyres. jeremy knew he’s probably just irritated from the other anecdotes of frustrating circumstances this morning (involving a spilled cup of _taho_ , some bleach, a toothbrush, and his band uniform), but this kid was really testing him.

“sino ka?” he barked back. it took jeremy too long to find out what he was saying, but the teasing look in his eye proved no better that he certainly was… something. _and who are you?_

“oh, _you_ wouldn’t know.”

it was hate at first sight. jeremy could’ve cursed him out by then, awfully tempted by the surrounding pep band’s snickering met with a few protests at the rude exchange, but his band mates were already calling for him to _sit the fuck down and just ignore them_ \-- well, it wasn’t a _them_ , jeremy thought to himself. it was a _he_ , one boy in glasses, greasy hair, bedan pep band attire, and a snarky attitude. jeremy couldn’t understand the way he talked; it was different. rapid, tough and… local. all his other ‘friends’ were known to speak in a weird mix of english and tagalog. ‘ _conyo_ ’, people call it. jeremy only knows it’s spanish for ‘idiot’.

it’s no secret to jeremy that he studies in a terribly small and obscure catholic school-- san beda was intimidating to jeremy, a well-known catholic school with their red lion and... well, jeremy didn’t know how to describe it. he didn’t know shit. he didn’t even know how games work-- this was the first time he’s ever bothered to go since he was born in america, and it was just because he had to play for the drum and lyre corps. what he _did_ know was that people are generally nice until they’re not.

"hey, do you know who that guy was?" jeremy asked the girl on his right-- he can't quite remember her name, but he goes wherever she goes because he never knows where to go.

"what, the kid you were about to deck a minute ago?"

"he started it!"

"yeah, whatever, i think his name is michael mell...? i don't know, ask christine. she's close with a lot of bedans." jeremy glances to the girl on his left-- she does a lot of stuff around campus. particularly, she's in colorguard in the drum and lyre corps. she was also a transferee but she's been a marian for a good two years now.

jeremy-- he didn’t necessarily take pride in being a marian either, but he had to pretend he at least had some dignity left. it was enough to be the only american transferee at the time; he tried out for the drum and lyre corps to see if it would help him ease into this completely new environment, and now he’s here. the culture shock still isn’t wearing off, but he knows how to play the lyre now and knowing how to play an instrument makes you look cooler.

somehow, among the mobs of annoyingly excited, sweaty teenagers filling up the stadium, screaming at the top of their lungs, jeremy’s eyes found their way to the bedan he’d just ‘met’ —yet to know his name— well over a hundred feet directly across where he stood. that fucker wore a big smile for someone so snide. jeremy didn’t know what came over him. mister bedan boy returned the gaze, holding for what seemed like ages; his grin melting into a scowl as the noise of the crowds coming still to them both. jeremy’s sharp glare didn’t fool the rapid pulse against his stomach as his heart sinks into his gut.

jeremy’s not one to despise people, but this kid was straight-up obnoxious. clad in striking red and seemingly talented with whacking a drum to his wit’s end-- the boy brought out the snotty side of jeremy. he didn’t bother thinking about how weird it was to loathe some stranger who was probably just there to cheer for his team. he chalked it up to the bedan having a remarkably punchable face. yeah.

they’re going to win this.


End file.
